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FIC: Just Between Friends, 1/2, R/NC17, Kurt/Kitty

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  • fyrdrakken@JUNO.COM
    DISCLAIMERS POSTED IN PART 0 * * * Just Between Friends by FyrDrakken * * * You _are_ probably my best friend, Fuzzy, you know that? There was any
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 4, 2001
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      DISCLAIMERS POSTED IN PART 0

      * * *

      "Just Between Friends"
      by FyrDrakken

      * * *

      "You _are_ probably my best friend, Fuzzy, you know that?"
      "There was any _doubt_?"
      — Kitty and Kurt, EXCALIBUR #83, by Warren Ellis

      * * *

      "Come in!" came the response to the knock.

      Kitty stuck her head in, not bothering to open the door first. "Is Peter
      here?"

      "No, they’ve already gone." Peter and a few of the other oldest students
      had been taken off to some undisclosed location for a few days for
      generalized "survival training" and random assorted outdoorsy torment, to
      be inflicted by Logan. Kurt, having managed to postpone his own woods
      indoctrination, had the room to himself for the weekend.

      "Kurt? Could I ask you something?"

      "Of course, Katzchen."

      "Has Peter said anything — about me — lately? Different, I mean?"

      It’s sometimes difficult to read the expression on an upside-down face,
      but Kitty didn’t have to, because Kurt dropped to the floor at her
      question. For him to leave his preferred perch (hanging by tail or toes
      from the modified jungle gym affixed to the ceiling), he must have been
      concerned. "Are the two of you — having a problem?"

      "I’m not sure." Realizing that if they were going to get into an actual
      conversation she might as well come in, Kitty walked the rest of the way
      through the door — still without opening it. "We haven’t been talking as
      much lately. That’s the problem."

      "Have you asked him about it?"

      "No, I — I’m half afraid he’ll *tell* me... Or maybe there isn’t a
      problem, and I’m just getting sensitive. Or maybe he’s just getting bored
      with me..."

      "Not that, Katzchen — never that." The eyes may have been an eerie shade
      of yellow — but they were warm and sympathetic.

      "It’s sweet of you to say that, but — things change. People grow apart,
      stop wanting to be together as much — or at all..."

      "You worry too much. Peter is worried about joining the team. He wants to
      prove he can do it, wants to pay back the Professor for all he’s done. He
      has a great deal on his mind."

      "And I’m not as important."

      "I didn’t say — "

      "I’m still one of the *kids*, one of the *students*, and he’s going on to
      be an X-Man. I’m too young for him," she finished miserably, seating
      herself on the nearest bed.

      Kurt sat down next to her. "Your age has nothing to do with it. He’s just
      busy. Do *you* have a great deal of time to spend with your friends
      before finals?"

      "Age has *everything* to do with it! When I take my finals, my friends
      are all doing them too. We study together, and we know we’ll be in
      classes together next term. Peter is getting done with being a student
      here — he’s moving up and I’m stuck here."

      "Ah. And you don’t think he’ll want to spend time with his old friends —
      or with you?"

      Kitty shrugged, writhing in misery. "Why should he? He’s moving on to be
      with the grown-ups, and the rest of us are still kids."

      Kurt rested a hand on her shoulder. "Joining the team is a big step, and
      I won’t say it isn’t. But he will still be the same Peter. Why should he
      stop caring for the people who meant so much to him before?" He rubbed
      her arm soothingly.

      "Maybe because he finally started noticing how much younger I am?"
      Kitty’s eyes had gone suspiciously bright.

      "Four years is not that great a difference."

      "It’s big enough." Her eyes had gone from bright to definitely tearful.
      "He’s gonna start going around with the other adults, and taking college
      classes, and maybe even starting *teaching* here," — a few tears had
      begun to escape — "and I’m *stuck* here, for another year at least."

      "You said it yourself, Katzchen — only another year and then you
      graduate. You may not join the team just then, but you’ll be in college,
      too." Kurt gently brushed a tear off her cheek with his thumb. "He’ll
      wait for you."

      He realized his mistake as soon as the tears went from a slow trickle to
      full blast. "But what if he *won’t*?!" was the cry before Kurt found
      himself with an armful of sobbing seventeen-year-old. "He’s going to be
      surrounded by all those college girls — "

      "Katzchen — "

      " — and he’s so neat, such a great guy — "

      "Katzchen, don’t — "

      " — and strong and handsome — "

      "*Katzchen*!"

      " — and artistic and sensitive — "

      "*Katzchen*, PLEASE!"

      " — and foreign and exotic — "

      "Don’t *worry* — "

      " — they’ll be all over him and I can’t compete with girls like that!"

      The litany thankfully wobbled to a halt, though the sobbing continued
      unabated. If anything, it grew worse, freed from the constraints of
      allowing enough air intake for semi-coherent speech. Kurt rubbed Kitty’s
      back soothingly, while fumbling for something to say. By the time the
      damp patches she was making on his shirt had soaked through to his fur
      and the skin beneath, he had found a new tactic.

      "Katzchen, of *course* you can compete. You’re intelligent and kind and
      bright and funny — and those don’t get any more common with age, even in
      college."

      "But not beautiful?"

      "What?!"

      "You said all the personality stuff but not that I’m even pretty — let
      alone beautiful. Whenever someone says a girl’s got a great personality,
      they mean she’s not much to look at."

      Kurt sighted. "Katzchen, Katzchen, you’re pretty. Beautiful. Nice to look
      at. Happy?"

      "You’re just — just saying that because I brought it up. To make me feel
      better."

      Kurt pulled away slightly to look her in the eyes. "Did you really expect
      *me* to judge a person on *how they look* FIRST?!" There was an ironic
      light in the flame-yellow eyes.

      Kitty blushed and lowered her gaze. "Sorry." She absently wondered when
      the change had occurred — when she herself had stopped noticing the odd
      shape and coloration first thing whenever she looked at him, and had
      started just seeing *Kurt*. Maybe it had been that Saturday he and she
      and Marie and Peter and Jubes had sat around watching the entire _Star
      Wars_ trilogy back-to-back-to-back while playing some drinking game that
      Bobby had found online, going through an entire twelve-pack of Jolt cola.
      Maybe it was the afternoon that the oldest students had challenged the
      teachers to a baseball game, where Kurt had displayed unsuspected talent
      at pitching and actually managed to strike both Logan and Scott out.
      Maybe it had even been the night the pair of them managed to accidentally
      scare each other silly — Kurt hadn’t been expecting Kitty to come
      ghosting through the wall into the rec room any more than she’d been
      expecting to find someone hanging from the ceiling in a room that at
      first glance appeared deserted.

      "It’s all right." He didn’t laugh, but behind him she could see his
      tailtip curling from side to side — amusement, in Kurt-speak. It stilled,
      as he became serious again. "Katzchen, if Peter’s too blind to see what
      he has in you, then you’re much better off without him. Because any man
      with the sense to see you as you really are would never want to let you
      go."

      "Really?" Her eyes had gone wide, soft and wondering.

      "Really."

      "*Any* man?" The tear streaks added to her sheen of innocence, belying
      some of the implications of her question, making what might have appeared
      a coquettish gambit seem bare of all artifice.

      And with those dark wondrous eyes meeting his and those soft lips still
      parted with her question, there really seemed to be only one truly honest
      answer to give.

      And those lips really *were* as soft as they looked, and she did *not*
      push him away (as he had feared and expected she would).

      And the realization that this was highly inappropriate behavior to be
      engaging in with a good friend’s girlfriend was very dim and distant,
      taking far too long to reach his attention. It was frankly becoming very
      difficult to think of anything beyond the girl in his arms...

      On Kitty’s part, the initial startlement at the unexpected kiss rapidly
      brought home the point that this was *not* her boyfriend. That this was
      *not* Peter, who had grown rather distant and preoccupied in recent
      weeks. That this *was* Kurt, who had been saying such tender things to
      her and letting her cry on his shoulder mere minutes before, and who was
      actually more than a little intriguing.

      Because the topic *had* come up, oh yes, in the late nights when the
      three roommates had some of their most interesting gossip sessions. Kitty
      had herself expressed the idea that Kurt needed a girlfriend, at which
      point Jubilee had been rather mockingly dismissive. "Good *luck* finding
      one who doesn’t mind the *fur* — not to mention all that *blue*... It’d
      be like fucking a Muppet!"

      Rogue, however, had supported the idea. "I don’t know — all that fuzz
      looks velvety to me, and he’s really pretty good-looking once you learn
      to ignore the blue."

      "Hah, Rogue, maybe the fur would protect him from your skin! He might be
      perfect for you..."

      But Rogue didn’t seem too keen on the idea, despite Kitty’s efforts to
      get her to consider the matter fairly. Jubilee, unimpressed with Kurt’s
      appeal, had applauded Rogue’s taste in rejecting him out of hand, despite
      the fact that it had been her own idea that he might be Rogue-proof.

      Of course, to be Rogue-proof he’d have to be furry *everywhere*. And as
      Kitty was learning first-hand, not only his lips but his palms as well
      were bare of that super-short seal-like covering.

      It was a startling realization indeed that — unless matters were brought
      to a halt — she might be about to find out where else Fuzzy might be less
      than fuzzy.

      Was that what she wanted? It was an idea worthy of careful consideration.
      *Did* she want to do this?

      Except that to consider the matter properly, she’d need to stop what they
      were doing and pull away to let her head clear — and right now she was
      enjoying the lips against hers, the hands caressing her back, *far* too
      much to want to stop.

      So instead she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her hands against
      his back. When he responded by pulling her even closer, she began sucking
      on his lower lip. He made a soft, almost urgent sound in his throat, but
      when she slid her tongue along his lower lip, he pulled away.

      "Don’t — you’ll cut yourself," he murmured, face still so close to hers
      that she could feel his breath against her lips.

      So that answered *that* lingering question — just how sharp *were* those
      lengthy canines (oh, just say it, *fangs*)? The answer apparently being,
      "very."

      "I’ll be careful," she whispered, before bringing her lips back to his
      and running her tongue oh-so-cautiously along the inside of his lower lip
      again, keeping well away from his eyeteeth. He allowed the caress once,
      then began massaging her tonguetip with his — not-so-incidentally keeping
      her tongue away from his teeth, she was distantly amused to note.

      It was a gesture typical of Kurt — gentlemanly even when someone was
      trying to stick her tongue down his throat. Kitty rubbed her hands down
      his back fondly, before lifting the tail of his shirt and sliding her
      hands beneath.

      Mmm — Rogue had definitely called it right. Velvety soft — but
      hard-muscled beneath. This wasn’t a body she was minding being pressed
      against at all. She would mind it even less if the layers of clothing
      separating them were removed.

      But the hands sliding over his bare skin — bare fur, rather — had
      reminded Kurt of the beckoning transgression. "Katzchen — is this what
      you want?"

      "Mm-hmm." Lips parted from his for the moment, she rubbed her cheek
      against his jaw, delighting in the feel. Fuzz beat stubble any day, as
      far as she was concerned.

      "What — what about Peter?" Which was an oblique fashion of referring to
      the moral dilemma they found themselves in, but right now Kurt was having
      difficulties in phrasing things any more specifically.

      "This isn’t *about* Peter. This is about *us*." Which was true as far as
      it went, but which also glossed over the ethics of the situation.

      But right now ethical considerations were taking a back seat to the
      purely physical. Having established to his own satisfaction that Kitty
      *was* willing, any questions beyond that were currently unwelcome
      distractions at best.

      Kurt allowed Kitty to lift his shirt, sliding it up and then removing it
      entirely, before he slipped his hands beneath her own shirt. He was slow
      in removing the garment, giving her time to object or to request a
      slowdown, but when she happily pressed her bared skin against his chest
      he wasted no time in removing her bra. He kissed her again, finding one
      breast with a hand and discovering the nipple already erect when he
      touched it. The one arm around her to hold her close, the other hand
      cradling her breast, his thumb rubbing gently around and around her
      nipple, he began kissing his way down along her throat.

      Kitty rumpled his dark-dark-blue hair happily. When he reached her chest
      he began alternating the light kisses with brushes of his cheek and jaw
      against her skin. Kitty leaned back onto the bed, pulling him down with
      her, as he started needing to bend down further than seemed comfortable.
      Kurt rested his elbows to either side of her waist to support his weight
      as he continued to work his way down to her breasts, leaving his legs
      half-hanging off the edge of the bed next to hers.

      The position brought something else to Kitty’s attention as she studied
      her new lover — his tail was curving in a slow repetitive undulation she
      had never seen before, adding a new item to the vocabulary of
      "tail-speak" that she (along with the rest of Kurt’s friends) had been
      building in the year he’d spent at the school. It was really pretty cute.
      She refrained from giggling — something she’d learned that males for some
      bizarre reason rarely appreciated in a sexual setting. Instead, she ran
      her hands down his back again, from shoulders to hips, hooking her thumbs
      into the beltloops of his jeans.

      Kurt had reached her breasts and began covering them with an
      unpredictably random assortment of kisses, cheek strokes and careful
      licks. When Kitty grabbed him by the pants, he paused and looked up to
      meet her eyes. Shifting his weight over to one elbow, he reached for her
      zipper, glancing to her face again to check for approval. Satisfied by
      what he saw, he returned his attention to her jeans, undoing button and
      zipper. Kitty started to kick off her shoes, and found herself being
      unexpectedly aided — Kurt’s feet weren’t as dexterous as Hank’s, but they
      were more than equal to the task of gently pulling off her sneakers and
      socks. Obstacles cleared, he began pulling her jeans down. She lifted her
      hips to help get them past her rear, pulling her lower legs free as Kurt
      slid them past her knees, then shifted position so that she was lying on
      the bed properly instead of half-hanging-off.

      Dropping her jeans on the floor, Kurt leaned down for another kiss. Kitty
      returned it, sliding her hands down his sides and then around to his
      lower belly, reaching the button on his jeans. Undoing it and his zipper
      as well, she looked down.

      Well. No need to ask if he was enjoying himself — but what a pity that
      the lime green they hadn’t been able to break him of wearing extended to
      his underwear selection. [Why not white? He looks *great* in white...]
      Kitty refrained from complaining aloud, settling for giving his jeans a
      careful tug downward. He was going to need to pull his tail out of that
      little hole in the seat of his pants, after all, and she didn’t want to
      yank it or scrape it or whatever. [The things we mutants have to think
      about...] Since he’d seen fit to leave her in her panties for the moment,
      she opted to leave him his briefs as well.

      It seemed an appropriate time for the pair of them to pull the covers on
      his bed down and get themselves underneath, before coming together for
      another kiss. This one was the best yet, with fur rubbing sensually
      against bare skin all along their lengths. Kitty wrapped a leg around
      him, allowing her to press certain attention-demanding areas against that
      hard swelling so unfortunately encased in icky lime green fabric. He made
      another of those endearing little urgent noises, placing a hand on her
      hip to pull her more firmly against him.

      She almost — *almost* — yelped at the unexpected caress on her bare
      thigh, before realizing that Kurt was winding his tail around her leg.
      The soft touch reached around and around and around, spiralling down her
      thigh and across her knee to her calf, rubbing lightly and
      not-so-incidentally holding her leg in place to keep her hips pressed
      against his. [Neat! Like a third hand — only it can cover a *lot* more
      territory...]

      She slid a hand between their bodies, sliding it down his belly — [Mmm —
      nice! Washboard tummy under velvet...] — to rub against the front of his
      shorts. He moaned and relaxed his grip — with hand and tail both — then
      reached down to return the favor.

      Kitty pressed herself against his hand, a whimper escaping her as he
      immediately found her clitoris, rubbing it firmly but slowly. When she
      began to rock her hips into the motion, he slid his fingers in through
      the leg of her panties and started exploring. This time he found her clit
      with a thumb, sliding one finger into her vagina. Regrettably he was
      short a few fingers — but the ones he had were strong and solid, so that
      the effect was about that of two normal fingers slipped in together. She
      gripped his finger with her internal muscles. "Take them off," she
      ordered — or begged — rather than suggested, not specifying whether she
      meant her underwear or his own. (She meant both, of course.)

      To emphasize her point, she slid her own hand down the front of his
      briefs. Mmm, short fuzz on his belly, but turning into a longer covering
      (not unlike the hair on his head) when she approached some of his more
      interesting bits. One of the most interesting of said bits fairly leaped
      into her hand.

      Yep. Fuzzy was definitely nonfuzzy in some vital points of interest — or
      rather, no fuzzier than any other adult male human. Also uncircumcised,
      she discovered with a bit of further exploration. He exhaled shakily as
      she began rubbing the head of his penis with her thumb — his fingers
      disappointingly stilled in her panties — before abruptly disengaging
      himself and nudging her hand out of his briefs. Fairly leaping out of the
      bed, he dived for the scattered clothes on the floor, while Kitty watched
      in confusion. Picking up a pair of jeans — dropping them — picking up the
      pair that turned out to be his, he pulled out his wallet — oh. Right.

      ["Like fucking a Muppet" — hah! Muppets don’t carry condoms around with
      them...]

      Tossing some foil packets onto the pillow, Kurt was back under the covers
      with her before his undies had time to hit the floor. They both reached
      for her panties at the same time, losing them under the covers somewhere
      after they were off and not particularly caring. Kitty beat him to
      grabbing for a rubber, and he leaned over her for another kiss while she
      was fiddling with the packet. [Yeah, yeah, I’m handling the safe sex,
      which I’m sure you find deeply moving. Well, you’ve got your hands free —
      do something with them!]

      Not being telepathic, Kurt couldn’t be expected to follow the mental
      instructions, but having her pause to take his hand and press it to her
      vulva was the kind of nonvocal suggestion it was hard to miss the point
      of. He began rubbing her clit again while she rolled the condom onto him,
      and was even charming enough to *keep* rubbing after she had him sheathed
      — possibly waiting for some kind of signal from her before diving in.

      Signals she could give. "C’mere," wrapping her arms and a leg around him
      and pulling him against her. He was on her in a heartbeat and she had
      guided him into her within another.

      It had happened so quickly that the two of them paused to adjust for a
      few moments, looking into one another’s eyes somewhat wonderingly before
      he began to move. Kitty had time to think, [This is me having sex with
      Kurt. This is me fucking Fuzzy. This is really nice...]

      Then her thoughts grew a bit more fragmented, distracted as she was by
      the brush of fur against some of the tenderest areas of skin on her body,
      the rhythm of penetration, that coiling caress along her leg again. She
      put her hands on his buttocks, adjusting his movements to find the exact
      angle she wanted to rub her clit with each stroke, and things got very...
      singleminded, after that.

      He finished before she did, though only by a few seconds — if anything,
      it was that cry against her neck that gave her that final nudge over the
      edge. She pulled him down to rest his weight atop her when he relaxed,
      and they spent several breaths like that, still joined as though melted
      together in their contentment. Now *this* was something that she couldn’t
      do with Peter — he was so much bigger than she that he never dared rest
      his full weight on her, but Kurt was built to a much lighter frame.

      They couldn’t stay like that for very long, but it was nice while it
      lasted. After a minute or so, Kurt reluctantly pulled free, dropping the
      used condom in the trash can by the desk and curling back up against
      Kitty. "So," she said, feeling that the situation might require some
      commentary, but unsure what to say.

      "So," he agreed. Evidently he wasn’t feeling any more verbose than she
      right now — if anything, he looked a bit drowsy. Then he came up with
      some appropriate nonverbal communication for the situation, pulling her
      into yet another kiss.

      As commentary went, Kitty was happy with it. It seemed to cover the
      necessary material while suggesting avenues for further research if she
      were so inclined. She ran a hand down his back again — she just couldn’t
      get over how soft that fuzz was to the touch! — and felt him nudging one
      of those muscular thighs between her own.

      The grip on her ankle was unexpected, this time because she had grown
      used to the feel of his tail. Well. Those feet certainly *were* handy —
      pun definitely appropriate in this case. Using that grip, he bent her leg
      at the knee, curling her thigh around his own and pulling her close to
      him again. She had no objections to the idea — especially since she was
      still feeling warm and cuddly from the just-finished lovemaking session.

      Then she felt the renewing erection pressing against her. This was no bad
      thing. Raising her head to look him in the eye, "Kurt, can I ask you
      something?"

      "What is it?" The wickedly speculative look that had begun to replace the
      sleepy expression was now tempered with a certain caution.

      "How long has it been since you’ve had a girlfriend?"

      "Longer than I would like." Judging by his guarded expression, there
      might have been a long and lonely time since his last relationship — or
      possibly a very painful breakup.

      "That’s unbelievable. There’s a shortage of decent available guys out
      there, and here you are still up for grabs after all this time.
      Ridiculous. Almost criminal."

      The guarded expression had been replaced by mingled pleasure and slight
      disbelief. "I’m very flattered that you think so — "

      "I don’t think, I *know*. You should have been snatched up *ages* ago..."

      Between the shy smile and the erection now pressing firmly up against her
      vulva, it was easy to see that he was enjoying the current line of
      conversation. Rather than point out that his appearance limited his love
      life to dating extreme xenophiles, he lightly asked, "If you have any
      ideas on how to correct the situation, I’m willing to let you."

      The question had more than one possible interpretation. Possibly Kitty
      was thinking that he had just given her permission to play matchmaker
      when she said, "I may have to take you up on that..."

      Then again, in the spirit of the evening, she could have been reacting to
      the implied inquiry as to whether she would care to "correct the
      situation" personally — by filling the desired role herself.

      Kurt didn’t stop to inquire as to which meaning she might have been
      responding to — the more so since she reached for another of those foil
      packets while he was considering the matter.

      "This time I want to be on top," she announced.

      Kurt laughed as he reached for her.

      * * *

      FyrDrakken
      She Whose Quotations Are Both Exotic and Appropriate
      Keeper of his Deadly Startle Reflexes, Guardian and Examiner of the
      Adamantium-Revealing X-Rays, and Official Listener for the Occasional
      Aussie Vowels

      "Okay, then, you have to promise if I say something you don't like you
      won't do that voice that sounds like people with wet and bubbly stuff in
      their lungs buried under the ground being crushed to death by giant worms
      talking."
      -- Delirium, SANDMAN #41, by Neil Gaiman
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